Page 20 of Of Blood and Fire
His gaze drifted lazily down my length. “That’s the one thing we can agree on. You stink of drakkon and have the figure of a pubescent boy.”
“Oh, I am mortally wounded bythatcomment.” My tone mocked him. “And totally disappointed Zephrine’s heir could not have come up with something more original.”
Aric cast his son a somewhat annoyed look. “You have to beget children with said pubescent boy if we wish to retain this throne, so mind your manners.”
“There will be no begetting anything on me,” I replied mildly. “Not now, not ever, not byhimat least.”
Aric cast me a condescending look. “Forever is a long time, and you cannot be vigilant twenty-four hours of every day.”
I stared at him for a second, disbelief surging. “Is that athreat?”
“No, merely a reality. For the good of the kingdom, you must bear children. If not willingly, well, there are ways to make a woman more receptive.”
My grip on my cup tightened, my fingertips glowing with the force of the fire pressing at them. “Getout.”
Aric sighed. “You have always known that this marriage comes certain realities and expectations. You cannot, for the sake of your people?—”
“I said, fucking get out. Now. Before I do something I willnotregret.”
His gaze dropped to my hand, and the faintest touch of wariness flickered through his eyes. He rose. “Fine. But we will have to discuss this matter sooner or later. It is, as I said, a reality you cannot escape.”
Perhaps not, but it was a reality I intended to ignore until I was calmer.
“Lenny,” I called, then, when he’d entered, added, “Please escort King Aric and Prince Damon to the grand guest suite. And from now on, neither of them are to be given access into my suite unless I am with them.”
He saluted and said crisply, “This way please, Your Majesties.”
Aric shook his head but nevertheless left. Fake Damon bowed, then blew me a mocking kiss and sauntered out. It was all I could do not to chase flame after his arrogant ass. Once the door had closed behind them, I walked over and locked it. While I trusted the guards stationed outside, I had no idea what Makki’s skill set was aside from being a general, and there was definitely something about him that prickled my instincts. A bolted door might be nothing more than an illusion of safety, but I nevertheless did feel better for it.
I rested my forehead against the wood for several seconds, trying to calm the turbulent fires that raced through me—fires born of not only anger, but also desperate loneliness and more than a pinch of futility.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the fight for Esan was one I could ever win.
I sighed, pushed away from the door, and walked across to the dome of magic that still burned so brightly for me, and yet clearly no one else could see or feel—though I dared say the Prioress was aware of its presence.
“Where are you, Damon?” I whispered softly. “Wherever it is, please, hurry back. I need you here.”
Not to advise me, not even to confront his parent, but to simply hold me when I needed it, and to stand beside me when I didn’t.
Was that too much to ask of man or gods?
Maybe.
Maybe this dome of magic was all I would ever again see of my Damon. Perhaps, on rescuing his mother and siblings, he would decide that coming back here was more trouble than it was worth.
He might have claimed I was his light in a world filled with darkness, but did that really mean anything? Was it ever anything more than just pretty words lacking substance?
I didn’t believe that was true, but the reality of our situation was that we remained strangers who barely knew each other in any waybeyondthe physical.
I walked into the bathroom and ran a bath. After grabbing a scented soapweed and tossing it into the water, I stripped off my sword, knife, bow, and quiver, hanging them on their respective hooks before returning to the table and making myself several thick cheese and meat sandwiches. I might not be overly hungry, but the last thing I wanted was to collapse with exhaustion and hunger, thereby giving Aric and his wretched son a perfect excuse to take over.
After pouring another shamoke, I carried the lot over to the platform next to the bath, then stripped off and climbed in.Soaking the weariness away in a tub of steaming scented water was always sheer bliss after a long, tiring day of riding—be it on courser back or drakkon—and for a good twenty minutes or so, I did nothing more than eat, drink, and relax. Once the water started to cool, I undid my plait and scrubbed the sweat and grime out of my hair, then did the same for my body. I climbed out, toweled off, then padded naked across to the bed platform and climbed under the blankets. I didn’t immediately fall asleep, but even when I did, death and danger stalked my dreams, accompanied by a deep sense of inadequacy and an even deeper feeling that I wasn’t ready for what was coming.
No one was.
To say I woke feeling less than refreshed would be an understatement.
I sighed, walked across to the scribe pen to order breakfast, then unbolted the door and moved into my dressing room, once again donning what was becoming standard drakkon-riding gear—leather pants, silk undershirt, thick woolen shirt, and long boots. I grabbed a coat and the harness, but didn’t put either on, quickly consuming my breakfast once it had arrived before gathering the rest of my gear and moving out.
